


death doesn't discriminate

by JuniperGrace



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 1 (Critical Role), Canon-Typical Violence, Chroma Conclave Arc, F/F, Getting Back Together, Mutual Pining, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniperGrace/pseuds/JuniperGrace
Summary: "death doesn't discriminate – between the sinners and the sainds, it takes and it takes and it takes. history obliterates, in every picture it paints, it paints me and all my mistakes ––– i survived, but i paid for it."--------Faced with the return of Thordak, the Cinder King, Arcanist Allura Vysoren and her longtime friend Kima of Vord do everything in their power to help Vox Machina defeat him for good. If they can defeat him again, their friends will not have died in vain fifteen years ago. And if the both of them end up better off for it, would that be so bad?A KimAllura-centric Croma Conclave arc.
Relationships: Kima/Allura Vysoren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure that this specific type of fic for this specific ship are a dime-a-dozen, but my gremlin brain would not leave me alone about wanting to explore Allura and Kima throughout the course of the Chroma Conclave arc.
> 
> So here we are, let's get going!

Her tower is the first thing she feels disappear – the connection to it snapping like a line pulled too tight, leaving nothing in its place. The unsuspectedness of it leaves her staggering briefly, the books in her arms clattering to the floor as a hand comes up to brace against the wall until the shock eases. Drake watches her closely, concern creasing his brow, “You alright, lass?” 

Allura shakes her head, stooping to retrieve her books, and motioning for him to follow her.  _ Something is not right _ , but she dare not voice her concerns until they’re somewhere more private. Not that she thinks anyone close enough to overhear them will understand what she means, but it’s a chance Allura feels unwilling to take. If something is wrong, she doesn’t want to worry anyone who needn’t be. With Drake close on her heels, she pushes into a study – the one she and Drake took over so they could study the ziggaurat – and as she crosses the threshold of the room, her connection to the Lyceum severs, sending her head spinning once more.

“You okay? Vysoren, you good?” 

“Something’s wrong.” A single busy eyebrow raises in response, waiting for her to elaborate. The dwarven man is thankfully quiet, though he watches her carefully as she deposits her books on the desk and begins to flit about the small space. “I’ve lost connection to Emon – my tower and the Lyceum – both of my sigils are gone,” she explains, reaching for a components pouch that quickly disappears into her bag of holding. “They’re permanent, they aren’t meant to just  _ disappear _ , they must have been destroyed somehow – something’s wrong. And Uriel was threatening to abdicate before I left for Whitestone. Maker, if that has anything to do with –” 

She rambles on for a while – making a list of any number of things that could be going wrong, a small number of supplies disappearing into the bag of holding before Drake finally stops her, stepping in front of her frantic path about the room.

“Calm down, lass. Take a breath,  _ think _ . Your sigils were destroyed, right? So then you can’t get into the city. What if the danger is ongoing and you walk right into a trap? You’re no good to anybody if you get yourself killed by jumping in blind. Let’s get a plan together – let Lady de Rolo know we have to take care of something – of course I’m going with you, don’t try and convince me otherwise. Whatever’s going on can wait long enough for us to not be walking into our deaths.” 

He’s right. She can’t just jump them into the middle of Emon with no plan, preparation, or without letting Cassandra she’ll be leaving. She’d gotten so swept up in the worry of what losing those sigils might mean, she’d completely lost her wits.  _ Deep breaths, Allura.  _ “You’re right, you’re right.” Once she slows herself down, a plan proposes itself almost immediately. “Alright, I have an idea – there’s a group of adventurers I’ve become friends with.” Are the members of Vox Machina her friends? Allies, certainly. But then, she doesn’t just drop everything and do magical research for all her allies simply because they asked. “They’ve recently acquired a keep that’s far enough outside the city it ought to still be standing. I can manually teleport us there and we can figure out what’s happening. Last I heard, they were headed to Emon, so they might also have information about whatever’s happened if they weren’t directly the cause of it themselves.” 

“And you’re sure they’re trustworthy?”

“They’re reckless – probably more chaotic than we ever were – but I do trust them.” 

“Alright. So we’ll find your friends.” He re-adopts the tone of the leader of a party so easily. Despite being accustomed to being mostly in charge herself now, she nods. Funny, she thinks, anyone else would be quaking in their boots before even considering taking such a tone with her nowadays. Perhaps except for Kima… “Great. Think an hour’s enough time to talk to everyone you need to?” 

“That should be enough time. Meet me outside?” 

“Out front in an hour,” Drake nods and turns to exit the room. She wonders briefly what he might have to get in order. He always packed light – if he packed at all for short excursions and he hadn’t come to Whitestone with much to begin with. (Used to drive Dohla up the proverbial wall.) Allura doesn’t have time to speculate, however, and she hastens to finish packing what she thinks she’ll need out of the study into the bag of holding. She makes a brief stop by her room for a couple essentials and a few bags of extra components – just in case – before setting off to find Cassandra within the castle. 

The guards stationed outside the library are the most obvious place to start and neither one of them try to stop Allura as she knocks. She doesn’t wait for an answer, however, and continues into the room. “Lady Cassandra, I do hope I’m not intruding.” 

“Lady Allura! Not at all, please come in. Give me just a moment,” the young De Rolo says, scribbling something down before marking the page in her book and setting her work to the side. Once her attention is fully on Allura, Cassandra notices the bag hanging from her shoulder and her dark eyes narrow. “Is something the matter?” 

“I’m afraid something rather urgent has come to my attention in Emon and I must go look into it – sooner rather than later. Master Thunderbrand has offered to accompany me, but we must leave immediately.” 

“I see –have you come to any conclusions with the-”    
“Unfortunately nothing conclusive. We do plan to return, however, hopefully within the next couple of days to continue our research. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t leave so suddenly, but–”

“No, no, of course. You must be terribly busy in addition to looking into our magical mysteries as a favor for my brother. I appreciate that you were willing to come on such short notice at all.” 

“Nevertheless, we will return as quickly as we’re able, Cassandra.” It’s as close to a promise as Allura dares to venture. The young de Rolo nods, thanks Allura for her help thus far, and bids her safe travels. Were she anyone other than Allura Vysoren, she might’ve curtsied. Instead, Allura simply nods in return and leaves in a flurry of rich blue fabrics. 

When she finally makes it outside, Drake is waiting for her. “So, Emon?”    
“Emon. Are you ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be, lass. Don’t mess this up. I like all my body parts exactly as they are.” 

Despite herself, Allura laughs before finishing her incantation and activating the teleportation spell. The air crackles, and in a flash of blue arcane energy, Allura steps through to Greyskull Keep, Drake right behind her. 

They appear to have bypassed the door entirely, having landed instead just over the threshold and Allura wonders briefly if this is the correct place – people seem to be moving frantically around the house. More people than Allura remembers Vox Machina ever housing previously. Anxiety hangs in the air, but they aren’t waiting long before a perplexed, but blessedly familiar halfling appears to greet them. Erwen, the butler. 

“Ah Erwen, I apologize for showing up in such a state without knocking. Are the members of Vox Machina available? I’m afraid I’ve an urgent matter to discuss with them.”

The halfling bows slightly, if he recognizes her, she isn’t sure, “They are just downstairs, I will see if they will recieve you.” 

Allura nods, “Thank you.” 

He disappears down the stairs and Allura turns to Drake his eyebrows are quirked upwards, “Vox Machina? Good name.” 

“And a vast improvement, if you ask me. They were initially calling themselves  _ The Shits _ .”

He chuckles, “All respectable adventuring parties start out with a questionable name at best – the more crass the better. If I remember right we –”

“I’ll never forgive you for letting the lot of you run around as  _ Shit Luck _ before I joined.” 

“We figured it out eventually.”

Allura hardly has time to hum before Erwen reappears from behind a door, the arguing voices growing louder as he emerges. “Ah, My Lady,” he says, looking rather flustered, “They said they’ll see you. Said it was rather urgent that you join them downstairs.”

Apparently her timing is as impeccable as always. Squaring her shoulders, she adopts the gait of the High Arcanist of Emon and motions for Drake to follow her, entirely unaware of the news she was about to receive.

* * *

Vox Machina’s recount of the fall of Emon sends her reeling. Uriel abdicating – dragons.  _ Dragons. _ Suddenly, she’s barely twenty years old again. So young, but surrounded by such destruction…

_ Smoke hangs thick in the air, her lungs scream for oxygen. Everything around her is painfully still. That’s when she spots them. Sirus… Dohla… Ghenn… Their bodies burnt almost beyond recognition. Dead –––  _

She hears herself agree to something and Vex’ahlia pulls a tapestry away from some sort of skull. Immediately, she feels herself shift back into a comfortable place. Research. Work. This, she can do with ease. Her body feels worlds away and Allura can feel Drake’s gaze on her as she inspects the skull. The room is blissfully quiet as she works. Magic sparks from her fingertips, flashing blue before dissipating once more. A Githyanki skull – how in the heavens did they come across something of this sort? 

She relays what she discovers with relative calmness (all things considered), answers their questions, and voices her concerns about their theories regarding the skull and any wishes it claims to be able to grant. Allura can only hope that they heed her cautions. (She’s unsure whether she trusts that they will. They’re an impulsive bunch…)

With Vox Machina’s momentary curiosity with the skull seemingly satiated, the topic turns once more to the state of the city. They’re looking to her for advice. Doing her best to disguise the way her hands shake, Allura takes a seat, “Right. Describe to me these dragons.”

It’s odd that dragons would band together in any situation – especially chromatic dragons, they’re normally such selfish and territorial creatures, she thinks. And then Grog interjects Vex’s descriptions, “ _ And a big  _ **_red_ ** _ piece of shit.” _

Her stomach drops to her feet. Drake is silent on the other side of the room, but Allura doesn’t miss the way his eyes widen.  _ It can’t be _ .

Keyleth asks her a question she doesn’t hear. “The names,” she asks, her voice abnormally hoarse. 

_ Vorugal _ . That one she recognizes and Allura shares everything she can recall about him. The others,  _ Raishan  _ and _ Umbrasyl _ don’t ring any bells. She’ll have to see what she can find. These adventurers will need every ounce of help they can scrounge together. 

“The red one was the leader, you said?” 

“Most definitely,” Vax’ildan confirms grimly. 

“He had a message,” Keyleth adds, “He belted it out to the entire city: We can either fight or flee and-” 

Vex corrects Keyleth. Something about fight or flight will result in sure death. Submission being left as the only remaining option. 

“Right,” the fiery-haired half-elf continues, not finished, “And he said it was the guardians of this city that brought this upon Emon – that he has control now. Something about a new order.”

The room closes around her, lungs stinging as if they’re once again filled with smoke. The guardians of Emon.  _ He’s back _ . “This is not your fault,” she says first, words firm. She doesn’t want Vox Machina to think themselves responsible, not for this. Not when it’s her fault. “This burden is mine.” 

She glances at Drake now, meeting his solemn gaze as he nods gravely. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Allura forces herself to continue, “It is  _ ours _ .... This dragon has been called many names throughout his time –” There isn’t a doubt in her mind that it’s him. What other massive red dragon might there be in Tal’Dorei? “The one it has taken is Thordak. The Cinder King.” 

She launches into Thordak’s history, tells them every piece of information she ever learned about him fifteen years ago now. Everything she knows, she shares. How he reaked havoc on Tal’Dorei. How they were overpowered in their initial encounter with him. She goes into detail about the trap she devised with help of the Arcana Pansophical. The trap that was meant to keep the terrible beast on the elemental plane of fire for the rest of time. She tells Vox Machina, her voice growing higher as she fights to continue speaking through the threat of tears, of their final stand against Thordak. “We prevailed,” she says, feeling the tears finally burn as they run down her cheeks and she silently curses her weepy state, “At the sacrifice of many, including our own companions. Sirus. Dohla. Ghenn…” There isn’t a day she doesn’t miss them all. Her words are bitter on her tongue as she pushes on, her tale nearing the end, “Drake, Kima, and myself were the only ones that survived. And now our friends – their deaths. All for naught, it would seem… We thought – We bound his essence to the fountains of creation and thought he would stay there forever.  _ I am so sorry. _ ”

From there, the conversation devolves into chaos. Percival, Keyleth, Vex, Grog, Vax – all of them talking over each other. There’s mention of the Ashari. Allura is  _ trying _ to keep herself present – to keep her head above water, so to speak. But all she can see are her friend’s mangled bodies, smell the smoke and blood of the aftermath of their last stand. She thinks she overhears Keyleth saying that her people were charged with protecting the realms. She hears herself trying to explain how she’d trapped Thordak before – she wants Keyleth to know this isn’t the fault of her or her people. 

“Oh my god, this is all my fault,” the druid laments

Percival speaks up. Everyone’s to blame. Cryptic. Keyleth disagrees, Vex interjects. 

“No, no,” they misunderstood. She tries again to explain the stone that was used. Giant. Vox Machina couldn’t have destroyed it and thus they cannot be responsible for Thordak’s escape. That falls solely on her – on her misjudgment of her abilities. 

“My people – would they be okay?” 

Allura does her best to comfort Keyleth – to instil hope that her people might still live. She was never known for her bedside manner, though, and that reflects in Keyleth’s response. 

More questions are asked, General Krieg is mentioned. Allura can only speculate what happened to him – the man either died in the demonic invasion or deserted around the same time. But no, dragons wouldn’t seek vengeance for another dragon. She reminds the adventurers that dragons are selfish. The fact that any number of these other chromatic dragons have banded together to free Thordak is worrying. 

Up until now, Drake seemed to have settled into the corner of the room, content to watch. To listen. He breaks that stillness to cross to where Allura’s seated and places a hand on her shoulder. The look he fixes her with suggests he knows what she’s thinking, that he knows the visions and doubts plaguing her. “We might not know what’s happening, but we’re going to figure it out. You can’t blame yourself,” he says firmly. She’ll appreciate his words later, perhaps. For the moment, however, they seem not to land. 

They all fall silent for a moment, frozen in place, all thinking, trying to find an answer somewhere in this  _ mess _ . 

“Allura?” 

“Yes, Keyleth?” 

“Would you consider us guardians of Emon?”

“I suppose – That is to say you are some of-”

“ _ Is this our fault? _ ” 

The pain in Keyleth’s voice – Allura hates hearing it. She hates hearing Keyleth continue to find a way that this might be her or her companion’s fault when Allura  _ knows _ who’s to blame. 

“No. Keyleth, the only guardians Thordak could reasonably know about are the ones who locked him away – fifteen years ago. This isn’t your fault, I won’t have you blaming yourselves when it was my carelessness–” 

“That’s not true,” Vax interrupts. 

Another piece to the puzzle – two years ago Vox Machina spotted General Krieg in possession of four stones. The man was a dragon – a blue dragon. Dead by Vax’s hand. Still, she isn’t convinced that Vox Machina is any more to blame for the state of Emon, though they seem determined to share the blame. There’s no use arguing it further in any case. 

They need a plan of action – they need to learn more and figure out what they’re going to do. They need allies. They need to know  _ where _ these blasted dragons  _ are _ . 

Vex’ahlia confirms easily enough that Thordak remains in Emon, but can sense no others in the area. They’ve scattered for the moment – Allura can’t tell if that’s a good thing, but for the moment, it means fewer dragons to evade within the city. Small mercies. 

Keyleth brings up that she’ll need to get into contact with her people. Vax’ildan laments that they’ve still no solution for the skull. No one knows who of the council survived, if any. They’re not even sure if Uriel made it out of the wreckage. They’re floundering – no direction. 

Finally something clicks and Allura straightens. She takes charge, “Right. We need to take stock of who we can consider a friend – we need all the allies we can muster now. If we do anything first, it ought to be locating –”  _ Westruun _ . Gone. “I’ve just lost connection to Westruun.” 

Grog breaks the silence of the shock, “Fuck. It’s the whole world.” 

Allura shakes her head, pulling herself together again from the initial shock of the loss of another sigil.  _ Keep it together – for them. They’re looking to you in this. We cannot flounder now. _ Before panic can fully set in, she interrupts Keyleth’s distress, “This isn’t annihilation. If it was an extermination, there’d be no survivors. We live and so we can fight, but we must move quickly and we must move smartly.” 

She’s fought a dragon before. Even if she wasn’t successful like she initially thought, she still knows much about what they’re about to face. The fact that he’s spared the city, even the smallest bit, is an advantage. But if they don’t work fast, they’ll lose that window of opportunity. 

“Right,” she says, re-adopting her authoritative tone. She is Allura Vysoren, damn it. And they will come out of today with a plan and they’ll make it work. 

She starts the rest of the party on brainstorming allies they can gather – and then moves to help Keyleth with a scrying ritual. It leaves Allura with a bitter taste in her mouth and leaves Keyleth seemingly feeling even more helpless than before they began. But they cannot afford to lose hope now. They can’t.  _ She _ can’t. So Allura gives her best version of a pep-talk, tries her best to instill hope. They’ve a long road ahead, but all is not lost.

It takes a few hours, but they finally emerge with some semblance of a plan. Vox Machina will stay in Emon, at least long enough to scout out any still living allies. From there, they will move on, continuing to gather their friends. She and Drake will do the same, but beginning in Westruun. They’re all on reconnaissance. Every piece of information, every friendly face they can find will be to their benefit. 

She and Drake bid Vox Machina goodbye for the time being.  _ Be careful _ s are whispered all around. Having a plan, however feeble, helps her feel like she’s more in control, but it’s a facade she can feel slipping as Keyleth preemptively thanks her. Arcane energy crackles in the air as Drake casts their teleportation spell. There’s a flash, a crack of lightning, and then Vox Machina and Emon are miles away, before them instead, a crumbling Westruun. 

“Shit,” the dwarf breathes and Allura can’t help but agree. “Should we have gone to Vasselheim first?” 

“Vasselheim? I thought we discussed that just before we left – Vasselheim is fortified and protected by a platinum dragon on top of it. Even a hoard of chromatic dragons wouldn’t dare cross  _ him _ .” 

“Right. But Kima ought to know.” 

_ Shit _ . Kima. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kima, Lady of Vord, sees to it she's the one who will accompany Vox Machina back to Emon and help them deal with their dragon problem. Thordak's back and she's gonna be the one to put him in the grave. For good, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more swearing in this chapter than the last what with this one being centered on Kima. Just something to note. Happy reading!

“Well we can’t very well sit around and do absolutely shit about it!” The knights in the room seem to tense and Kima watches Vord shift. She doesn’t stop speaking, determined to make him hear her out. “If what you saw is true – if a horde of chromatic dragons has stirred, then we should mobilize – we should help!”

“I’m sure that Tal’Dorei has suitable forces – ”

“And if they don’t? One dragon, I’d have all the faith in the world for them handling this on their own. Hell, back when I was running around, we could take care of _one_ dragon. It’s a hell of a fight, but it isn’t impossible. But they’ve organized! I don’t have to tell you how fucking weird it is for a bunch of chromatic dragons to have banded together-”

“ _Kima._ ” 

“And what do we do if they finish their mission of destruction in Tal’Dorei? What’s to stop them from turning their attention to Issylra – to Vasselheim?”

“Vasselheim can withstand an attack.”

“So you’re saying we should sit in our defenses and let the world fall apart? Surely it’s in our best interest to make sure it doesn’t even get to that point.”

“You make a fair point, but what if we send forces and they fall with the rest of Tal’Dorei? We simply do not have the resources at the moment.” 

She groans, “I’m not saying we send every single able body we have. That wouldn’t be reasonable, but we should send _someone_ .” _At the very least, send me._

Vord seems to consider her words. Kima knows he knows she’s right, but before he can respond, the doors to the central chamber creak open. A single scalebearer slips in, looking sheepish, “Pardon me, Highbearer. Vox Machina? They’re here. They claim to have business with Lady Kima.” 

_Vox Machina._ Maybe they’ll be able to convince him to help – he has to like them more than he likes her – even if it’s only by a small margin. It’s also much harder to ignore a group of people than it is to ignore just one little halfling.

“Tell them I will receive them and have them come in at once.” The scalebearer nods and exits again. Vord turns to Kima, “We will hear what they have to say. I make no promises to you now what we will decide to do, but we will hear them out.”

A hush falls over the hall as the double doors give way to reveal the members of Vox Machina who seem to take in the grandness of the space as they approach. Pleasantries are exchanged – Kima forces herself to take a moment to breathe. Inane conversation is important to moving things along, she knows that. But damn it all if it isn’t boring. She knows what’s happening, she knows what needs to be done, so why should they put off action to dance around words? Finally, Vord offers to send a champion and Kima stands as tall as she can. Surely he’ll name her and she’ll get to jump into the action. Before the hope can fully rise, her jaw drops as he names Udire. 

_Udire?_ Udire’s a prick. A pompous prick who’s grown comfortable in the city and barely knows the blade of his sword from the hilt. She watches as Vord introduces the man who makes a great show of kneeling down and she sees an opportunity as he drops his shield. Before anyone can stop her, she jumps forward and slams her maul into the Udire, sending his shield skidding across the space and denting his armor. Udire looks back in shock as Kima stands proud once more, “This is my turf – I’m going.”

Perhaps if Vord wasn’t blue, he’d be turning red. And if Kima wasn’t fuming, she might take more time to enjoy the way his face twists and the exasperation in his voice as he tries to argue she isn’t the best choice for the mission – that her ‘foolish impulses’ are ill fit for the time. Vox Machina, on the other hand, seems delighted by her appearance and the idea of her joining them. She thinks she’d rather die a fool than live in fear and she tells all of them so much. 

Udire stands, whining as Vord names her the new champion. Kima only half hears as he urges the adventuring group to keep her from doing anything ‘stupid’. They seem all too willing to ignore that advice. Bless the lot of them. 

The energy of the room seems to settle while they move from the joy of reuniting, sobering back into the severity of the times, and on to discussing Vox Machina’s plan. The hall clears somewhat, leaving just Kima, Vord, and the adventurers. There’s a lot of going over knowledge and history – they’re looking for the Vestiges of Divergence, the Cobalt Reserve is gone. The group of adventurers mention Allura in passing – something about her on her way to the Cobalt Reserve, presumably to see what’s left. Kima tries not to focus too much on that, Allura’s more than capable of taking care of herself. Still, all of it makes Kima itch to _go_ , to act. 

_Then why are they serving the red one?_

The red one? Vord gets the question out before Kima can even make sense of it. 

_Thordak_. Bahamut’s tits, he’s back? Unless there’s another giant red dragon flying around using the same name as the one she and her friends banished to the fire plane all those years ago. An absurd idea, it has to be him. She wonders if Allura knows. If they hit Emon first, she probably does. At the very least, Kima knows that she’s alive – she’s on her way to the Cobalt Reserve.

Vord continues to go on and on, endlessly blowing hot air. And Vox Machina just _keeps_ asking him questions. How long can they all just _talk_ before someone _does something?!_ Energy continues to rise within her, until she finally reaches her boiling point. Patience never was her best quality. Finally there’s a break in the talking and Kima’s about to suggest they get going, but Scanlan begins to pose another question. 

“Oh my god,” she almost shouts, slamming her hammer into the ground. All eyes turn to her - expressions ranging from pride to exasperation. “Can’t we just go?! I’m sick of hearing him rattle on. We’ve got to get moving – we can’t stand around and plan until the whole world’s on fire! We have to-” 

Vord interrupts her, hushing her tirade. She wishes he hadn’t because Scanlan’s question doesn’t do them any good. Vasselheim doesn’t deal in the arcane. Any magic not granted through divinity is heavily frowned upon here – something Vox Machina _knows_. 

Finally, Vord seems to tire of the lot of them and their conversation. Thank the gods. With a grin on her face, Kima leads them out of the grand hall and then out of the temple. At last, they’re alone and for a moment, there’s a gleeful reunion. She hugs all of them, except for the two she doesn’t recognize. They’re introduced immediately, though. Zahra and Kashaw. A vibrant (in both color and personality) teifling and a brooding human respectively. Reunions and introductions taken care of, they all return to the somber matter at hand. _Dragons_. And a hell of a lot of them at that. 

And they still don’t know where they’re supposed to go next. 

Westuruun… To the Fire Ashari… Going to see the Earthbreaker. They can’t seem to decide. Kima will go where they think they need her most – she’ll help however she can. Somewhat selfishly, she hopes that will be Westruun. Just because if that’s where Allura is… she can’t help but worry…

She watches them all discuss – gods, they all look like they’ve been to hell and back. Was she like that ever? Probably. Though, she left most of the discussion to the others, choosing to chime in only when it felt absolutely necessary. 

They settle on starting local and paying a visit to Earthbreaker Groon, they’re work their way out of Vasselheim from there. It’s as good a plan as any, and honestly, Kima’s just glad to be out of the temple.

“Well? Can’t wait to see this – what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” She heaves her maul over her shoulder and sets off down the stairs, grinning. She hasn’t met the man before, but she’s _seen_ how strong he is – heard story after story and she’s excited to finally see something up close. After day in and day out of monotonous duties, Kima’s thrilled for an excuse to get out – and a chance to go after some dragons! 

She trails behind them, letting Vox Machina lead the way to the Temple of Kord. Kord, Vord. The silly rhyme echoes in her mind with each step through the city proper. Grog’s excited – gushing, rightfully so, about Groon’s strength and power and Kima’s more than happy to listen. He only gets more riled up the closer they get – his chest puffs out as they pass through, saying something about his presence being recognized which makes Kima wonder what kind of interaction they’ve had with this guy. Whatever it is, the rest of them are more than happy to feed into Grog’s moment with a few _huzzahs_ and a clap on the back. Kima can’t wait to see what happens next. 

She doesn’t think she’s ever heard the Earthbreaker speak before – never getting close enough to hear him – so she’s immensely surprised to hear the man refer to himself in the third person. Keyleth hides a smile, but Kima can tell Grog is eating it up. When he’s not speaking in third, he’s vague as hell, but before Kima grows entirely bored and zones out, he strikes out and his elbow slams into Grog’s stomach. _A fight!_ Well, a teaching moment, she knows one when she sees one, but at least it’s _exciting_. Vax and Scanlan are shoved in as well and Kima whoops. If she can’t fight herself, she can at least cheer on her friends. 

Before it even has a chance to get going, Scanlan’s got the guy asleep on the floor. Vax gets him good with his daggers, though and suddenly he’s back into it. Kima’s enraptured by the fuss of it. Then Scanlan gives him the runs – Eyebite has to be cheating. Bigby’s Hand, however, is hilarious. By all accounts, things are going great – even with Groon’s vaguely grim one-off comments to Grog. Finally it’s over. Scanlan is huffing and puffing, Vax is wounded, and Grog looks inspired if a touch confused. But Groon? Groon heals himself up right as rain, leaving only a couple sick scars in place. She has to applaud. 

When the high of the scuffle finally wears off and they all leave the temple of Kord, the fact that Kima still doesn’t know Vox Machina’s plan settles back in. After going around and around each other, it seems that none of them really know what they’re doing either. She _thought_ they wanted to head out from Vasselheim in a few days – completely fine, gives her a chance to get some stuff together and find them a ride. It seems, instead, they want to leave immediately. Still do-able. Less ideal, but do-able. Then Kash brings up The Loch and Keyleth reminds them all about visiting the Fire Ashari. The conversation splits six different ways again and it’s all Kima can do to try and follow it. She wishes they could just pick something so she knows what she needs to do. Amidst her frustration, she tries to remind herself to find patience. She was just as frazzled the first time she dealt with a dragon – they’re dealing with five! 

They decide to go, so they all set out! Kima, Kash, and Zahra in tow. Keyleth turns them all into mist – which takes Kima a good while to figure out, but if it gets them where they all need to be faster, then she won’t say no a bit of magic. (She never understood Vasselheim’s distaste for the arcane anyways.) 

The Loch is a loch – like any lake Kima’s seen before. Kashaw and Zahra hang out by the water to do some poking around and Kima decides to help everyone else get camp set up, maybe get a couple good punches in with Grog. As the sun sets, different pairs go off to chat about different things and Kima settles in to get some sleep in before her watch. Being outside makes her uneasy – especially with dragons on the loose – so she opts to sleep with her armor on. It might be uncomfortable, especially balanced up in the trees, but really it just takes some getting used to. Better than getting caught in an ambush in the middle of the night with your pants around your ankles. Not that she would know that from any kind of experience. 

Then something screeches in the distance, the kind of sound that sends a chill straight to your bones, and any sleep that had started to settle in vanishes. She’s wide awake and the rest of them are scrambling back to consciousness. Vax is chanting, calling whatever’s darting behind the horizon a Roc. 

They were cows? Nevermind. 

Big bird. _Biiiiig Bird_. 

When they’ve determined there isn’t a threat, Kima’s in agreement with Grog and goes back to sleep. She half-listens as she dozes off to their soft bickering… and dreams of her friends once sleep finally takes hold. Sirus, Ghenn, Dohla… Even Allura and Drake. Some others come to mind, but they’re the ones she remembers when she wakes to take watch. Rather than stew in the sadness some of their memories rouse within her, she turns it to resolve. She’ll get Thordak for good this time. Even if it kills her. He won’t take these guys from her as well. Kashaw and Scanlan finally rouse and send her back to sleep. She rests as best she can, but mostly she just lies still with her eyes open as the sun creeps its way back into the sky.

A swim, some fish people, a little bit of death, and a fucking _beholder_ later, they emerge from the Marrowglade Loch more or less alive. Vex died – properly died. Not during the main fight, but after Percy tried to take the Deathwalker’s Ward off a skeleton. Still, it put a damper on all of them for sure. Something happened between Vex falling and them leaving – Kima isn’t really sure what, but Vex is alive again and Vax seems different. He says he’s fine – shaken, but fine. He’s too hard to get a read on, so Kima doesn’t push. They have what they went in for, though. The Deathwalker’s Ward – a set of armor – is stored safely in a bag of holding. 

The least she can do is cook for everybody afterwards – especially after dealing barely any damage and then getting tossed in a pit. They don’t seem to mind, but Kima still feels badly for it. She adds Bahamut’s protection to where they’re resting. 

“So,” she says, breaking the somewhat stunned silence that’s fallen over them, “What I understand is we got allies and a bunch of people all headed to Whitestone, yeah? Allura, her council people, and a bunch of refugees?”

A few of them only nod.

“Right. I think I ought to make my way there. I can help set up defenses and whatnot – I’d do more good there right now, I think.” 

They launch into planning again, Kima doing her best to be more involved this time. She manages to convince Zahra and Kash to go with her. They could prove useful – especially if the majority of the people headed to Whitestone aren’t the fighting sort. They’ll need all they help they can get. Vox Machina seems to agree. She’s glad no one calls attention to how Allura was the first person she mentioned in regards to travelling to Whitestone – because she isn’t. Well, kind of. But her desire to help – to be of use – is bigger than just one wizard. 

She doesn’t even have to try too hard to convince Keyleth to do her weird tree thing to get them back sooner rather than later – trees make shit beds – and it’s actually incredibly cool. Any awe brought by the druid’s trick is kicked aside when Vex mentions Allura. They _had_ said Allura was here, right? Before coming through the tree? 

She’s got her facts mixed up – a tousle with a beholder’ll do that to you. Allura isn’t _in_ Whitestone, but she’s _coming_ . No, no, last Vox Machina saw of Allura, she disappeared with Drake to go off to dragon-riddled Westuruun. “That _prideful_ woman,” she spits.

Luckily for all of them, Vex and Keyleth talk her out of immediately turning for Westuruun. Blah, blah, blah, very stealthy, blah, blah, blah. She agrees to wait for a couple days before Keyleth offers to scry. It’s a solution that settles the panic bubbling in her stomach for the time being at least and Kima goes scuttling off to find a tavern. After a beholder? They all deserve a drink. Hell, she’ll buy if they can keep up. 

They don’t seem to keep up, it would seem. She doesn’t mind, however, it just means she can get herself nice and drunk on her own. Allura would scold her if she were here – Drake too, probably. Stupid wizards running into danger all by themselves. 

By the time Vox Machina finds her, she’s nursing a tankard on her own, having mostly sobered up again. Feels better. For now. Drink the troubles away tonight, get to work tomorrow. She doesn’t notice Keyleth and Vex entering until they’re right next to her. Before she can even wonder where the rest of them are, Keyleth offers to go check on Allura which perks her up enough to get her attention away from her scowling reflection in the ale and she follows the pair upstairs, leaving a rather flustered bartender watching them go. 

They enter an empty room and get set up. Kima sits across from Keyleth and Vex lands so she can sit next to both of them. Keyleth’s eyes turn white – Kima recognizes the spell from the handful of times she’s seen Allura perform it and she watches anxiously for when the druid comes back so she can tell her what she saw. Vex squeezes her hand while they wait. 

They’re both alive – both of them. Allura and Drake. Kima realizes she’s holding her breath and lets the stale air leave her lungs in a huff. Something deep within her tells her she still ought to go after them, but she promised she would wait at least a couple days. So instead of jumping to action, Kima asks a few more questions. Their answers aren’t any more reassuring, but at least Kima knows for sure Allura and Drake will return to Whitestone when they’re finished in Westruun. It would be dumb to go in armor clanking with a platinum dragon backing her up if they’re being careful. If Kima got them all killed, Allura would kill her. Or kill her again. However it works when you’re dead. 

She gets a quick roll call of who’s already here – Uriel’s dead, but his wife and children survived. Gilmore – whoever Gilmor is – is here and apparently in pretty bad shape. Tofor is here – maybe? Wait, no. Tofor and Asum are alive, but neither of them are here. They’re searching for survivors, but they’re coming back? It’s all a lot to keep track of. 

“Is - that red dragon you guys saw. His name -” 

“Thordak?” 

She can’t tell who says that, but she nods, “Thordak. You’re sure it’s him? Beyond sure?”

The women before her are quiet until Vex speaks up, “You fought him before, didn’t you? With Allura? He escaped from the Fire Realm.”

“Not just that,” Keyleth interrupts, “He tore a giant hole in the rifts – and he’s calling for the destruction of ‘the protectors’ of Emon.” 

She feels her chest tightening. No wonder Allura’s off on some suicide mission to the Cobalt Reserve with Drake – the stupid wizard probably thinks this all is her fault. Drake will talk some sense into her – he’s gotta. He was always good at that sort of thing. And if he doesn’t, they’ll be back soon and Kima can do it herself. 

Someone says her name – Vex? No, Keyleth. Doesn’t matter, she clambers to her feet. “I need some air,” she manages to force out before bolting from the room.

* * *

Vox Machina is gone without a goodbye. Not that they owed her one or anything, and really, Kima doesn’t mind that they’ve left. They have too much on their plate right now to deal with something as trivial as a formality. Formalities are a bore, anyways, and their quick departure gives her more time to throw her focus into being useful.

Less than a day in Whitestone makes it clear the small town is suffering from some growing pains with so many people arriving so quickly. Luckily, Kash and Zahra are also the ‘quick to work’ type and they all disperse to different parts of Whitestone, rallying as many able-bodied folks as they can to help with their efforts. Plans are made – homes need building and defenses need strengthening. 

Kima pushes herself to work tirelessly. She does it all – starts teaching recruits to use a sword and shield, helps carpenters piece together new homes for the refugees. She even helps Pike making sure people are getting healed properly – and she finally meets the glorious Gilmore. At night, she nurses one or two ales, building a quick camaraderie with Zahra and gets to know Pike better. Kash is a harder one to crack, but he’s good company nonetheless. They stumble back to the castle together much later than probably appropriate, though no one will ever say anything to them given how much they’re doing for the small city, and Kima passes out the second her head touches her pillow.

Before she can even blink, a week’s gone by. Each morning, Kima checks for any sign of rich blue fabric or golden hair. There’s never so much as a trace, she isn’t sure why she expects it – Allura will show up when Allura shows up, there’s no rushing a wizard. As much as she wants to go after Allura, Kima reminds herself that Allura has Drake. They’re going to be okay. 

Once she’s sure there are no new arrivals hiding within the castle, Kima joins her friends in the dining hall for breakfast where they discuss their plans for the day. Zahra has some tinkering she wants to get done – mostly pet projects from what Kima understands, but anything that will ultimately help Vox Machina bring down the dragons is time well spent. Kash is on training and patrol, grumbling about how some kids still can’t even hold a sword. Pike reminds him to be patient and lets Kima know she’ll see after the construction. Which leaves Kima to take up arguably one of the hardest jobs – seeing to the injured. She’s not as great a healer as Pike is, but she’s picked up enough know-how through the years that she can make sure no one’s bandages are dirty, nothings infected, and she can cast a few healing spells for the really dire situations. On the plus side, she can chat with Gilmore for a bit. 

Most everyone’s in fantastic shape today – there’s a shopkeep from Emon who’s still boasting some nasty burns that Kima lends some of her magic to. It doesn’t cause an immediate cause, but it relieves some of the pain and gives them a chance to get some rest. Their partner thanks her profusely – words she does her best to wave off. She’s at Gilmore’s not long after midday. Not a moment too soon, apparently, because she catches him trying to walk around the room. Just as he stumbles, she reaches out and steadies him, “Why are you wizards all so fucking stubborn! Couldn’t wait five more minutes to try and do something that’s gonna make healing take another month?”

Gilmore laughs, grimacing as he does and lets Kima help him back into his cot, “Speaking from experience, are you?” 

“That obvious?” He doesn’t respond more than simply raising an eyebrow and Kima heaves a sigh, “I’ve dealt with my fair share of wizards.” 

That seems to surprise him and with a snap of his finger, teacups appear in both his and Kima’s hands as he asks, “Wizard _s_?”

“Had two in my party back in the day.” 

“ _Two_ wizards all at once?!” Gilmore dramatically raises his free hand to meet his forehead, tone clearly teasing, “How on earth did they get on? Did you want to absolutely murder them most days?”

“Ha, ha. You know? Sometimes they’d bicker like it was the end of the world and then the rest of the time they wouldn’t shut up about _theories_. Those days, I can’t say I didn’t consider murder.” 

He laughs again, wincing, “You – you can’t make me laugh!” 

“Shit, sorry. I have some magic left, if you want a Cure Wounds or something?”

“If you wouldn’t mind...” 

He looks better after a higher-level spell or two. Not great, but he’s well along on the long road to whatever normal might be. And he’ll have some sick scars to show for it unless he decides to get rid of them with his wizardly tricks like Allura does. Once he’s settled again, they fall into their usual banter over a card game. Kima lets him win once – only once. 

After a couple games and a few hours, a hush falls over them. It isn’t uncomfortable, and Kima doesn’t mind the silence, so she just sits with Gilmore and scuffs her boot against the wood floor until he coughs, “So… Your wizards.”

“What about them?”

“I want to know about them.” 

“They owe you money?” 

“Possibly.”

Not for the last time, Kima sighs, pulling a chair up beside Gilmore’s bed, “Like I said, I know two pretty well and we ran into a bunch of them in our travels – some good, some less good… s’ how it goes, I guess. Anyways, Drake is kinda our founding member. He’s alright – likes lightning and thunder and that kind of thing. He almost burnt us to a crisp a couple times – he likes to experiment with magic and that, from what I understand of it, can get dicey. Or at least, the way he did it could get dicey.”

Gilmore nods, but doesn’t interject, so Kima continues, “Then, after about a year or so – I’m not sure, really, but it wasn’t right away – Allura joined up. Gods, I hated her at first. Even back then, she was all prim and proper and I was sure she’d high-tail it the second anything got serious. Funny enough, she was – and is – an absolute badass. She made travel so much easier once she got good with teleportation.”

A look of recognition flashes past Gilmore’s eyes, “Allura? As in Allura Vysoren?”

“The one and only.”

“You know Allura Vysoren! And the world gets smaller, doesn’t it, my friend?” When Kima looks at him like he’s mad, he stifles a chuckles, “Lady Vysoren is a well-known acquaintance of mine! Well known in Emon, that is. We only spoke a handful of times, however, she’s a terribly busy woman.”

“You’re telling me! The woman quite literally never stops – you don’t even know the half of it.”

“I always thought she seemed like a great person to have in your corner – very powerful wizard. Well-respected in Emon, too.” 

“She’s the best. To have in your corner, that is. But you also don’t want her mad at you – her eyes are like a storming ocean when she’s pissed. That kind of anger is terrifying to be at the receiving end of.” 

Gilmore nods again, “You love her, don’t you?” 

The observation shocks her and she’s always been rubbish at disguising her emotions, so there’s no stopping her jaw from dropping to the floor or her eyes from going wide. No one’s read her that quick – not in a very long time. Not since, well… 

“Loved.” 

“Past tense?” 

“Yeah… Kinda messed that up for myself. Years ago… We’re friends now, I think… kinda gotta be with everything we’ve been through.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but he looks as if he understands. Wizards must all take the same lessons when it comes to hiding away their emotions, though, because the way the look on Gilmore’s face disappears before she can fully read it is all too familiar. What she does recognize before it goes is familiar as well.

“Well,” he says, looking back to her, “When Pike deems me well enough to leave this boring bed, you’ll have to let me buy you a drink. We can muse about our loves lost. Or just get drunk. Whichever we do first. Might even be able to manage both.” 

“It’s a date.” Kima takes a moment to look out the window – the sun is just starting to sink behind the mountains in the west. “I should probably go check on everyone one more time before it’s dark… You gonna need anything else from me before I go?” 

“No, I think you’ve done plenty for me today – go see to the others.” 

She sets her teacup down on the bed untouched. Not because she doesn’t appreciate the gesture, but she doesn’t care much for tea. Gilmore doesn’t look offended, simply waves his hand and the cup and its contents disappear into the void. “Get some rest, stubborn wizard. Actual rest. Or you’re gonna be bedridden for the rest of time and we’re never gonna get that drink.” 

“Thank you, Kima.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Sleep, okay?” 

“Paladin’s orders.” He gives a funny kind of salute as the door closes behind her. It makes her laugh, and she does her best to shake off their conversation as she makes her rounds again. Most everyone is still doing good. A few bandages need changing and a couple people need some extra help so they can get a decent night’s sleep. By the time she’s closing the door on her last patient, tthe sky is almost blue – light hasn’t faded completely, but the sun has fully disappeared from view. 

Kima considers whether or not she has the energy to make her way to The Journey’s End. The company is nice, but she’s feeling almost completely tapped – the idea of bed beyond enticing. Decision seemingly made, heavy footsteps carry her back up to the castle. She can grab a quick bite from the kitchen – nothing big and hopefully Varon won’t mind. He shouldn’t – he usually doesn’t.

Castle Whitestone is abnormally aflurry for the hour, she thinks as she walks in. No one she can spot looks like anyone who might have an answer, though, so Kima decides it’s a question to be answered in the morning, hunger pushing her past the hustle and bustle. 

The heavy wood door of the kitchen creaks as she opens it, giving way to the pristinely kept domain of the castle’s chef. She’s expecting to see Varon, but he’s notedly missing. Where he ought to be, is a haggard looking Drake Thunderbrand who is chatting wearily with none other than Allura. 

Drake looks worse by far – cloak caked in grime from the week rummaging around the ruins of Westuruun. He looks like part of his beard is singed off too. Somehow, Allura is standing there almost pristinely. (She always was more liberal with her use of Prestidigitation.) She doesn’t have a hair out of place and her dress is still impossibly blue. Despite her grand appearance, Kima picks up on the things she’s learned about this particular wizard over the years. Allura does her best to project an air of perfection, however, her eyes are dull, her shoulders slump ever so slightly, and the hem of her dress is torn and caked in a fine layer of dirt. No one would pick up on these miniscule things. 

Kima stands, frozen in the doorway, staring at them. A barrage of emotions hit her all at once – frustration and the smallest dash of anger that they didn’t tell her about Thordak or ask her to go with them to Westuruun. But standing there, seeing Allura _alive_ in front of her once again and looking once more like she’s harboring the burden of the entire world, Kima pushing everything aside to let the relief wash over her. 

Gilmore’s words echo in her mind. 

  
_You love her, don’t you_?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm so excited to share this fic – I've been working on it for a bit and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have any burning questions or want sneek peaks for upcoming chapters, you can find me on [tumblr](http://finelyfrenzied.tumblr.com)
> 
> Have a fantastic day! Don't forget to love each other <3  
> xx Juni


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